A Love Story
by Tamashi.no.Koe
Summary: Fact of life: When Wakashimazu Ken's girlfriend of three years dumps him for Hyuuga Kojiroh AND Wakabayashi Genzo, the apocalypse comes early.


So you're here.

Let me guess. It's a Saturday night or Sunday afternoon, and you're at home on the computer, looking for something to read. You're bored. You want something to help pass the time, nothing too heavy that will (God forbid) make you _think_, but something that might make you laugh. And since like ninety percent of everything in this Captain Tsubasa fandom is crack (or was written with the author on crack) you think it's the best place to get your kicks.

(_We are not on crack!_)

I know, I _know_… Hey, it's the stats talking. Kill them, not me. Anyway. Let's say…fluffy romance, shall we? Since we're all here and bored and without lives—

(_We. Have. Lives._)

Of _course_ you do. I'm telling you a love story, aren't I? We all know that vicarious semi-living through books and sappy movies is what everyone does these days. Chic lit is like a constitutionally endorsed substitute for actual dating. Or something. Whatever. I said I'd tell you a love story.

_Meet: _The Guys

Long, bushy black hair; quirky half-smirk; bulky sweater and tight-fitting pants; sleek, oh-so-snug keeper gloves.

**Pose, and… Flash!**

Name: Wakashimazu Ken

Occupation: Goalie, resident pretty boy, future dojo master (if his father coerces him into inheriting), legendary should-have-been-a-model poser, AND, if I may risk getting brutally murdered for saying so, EX-boyfriend of…

[_I am not her ex! She did not just dump me and she can't dump me because—_]

Sorry for the interruption. He's in denial. Moving on.

Wild black mane of alleged hair; coppery, ultraviolet-light-overexposed skin; frayed shirt and dangling tie; permanent scowl.

**Pose, and… Flash!**

Name: Hyuuga Kojiroh

Occupation: Striker, demolition expert of pitches, goalposts and nets, walls and everything within shooting range of a soccer ball, professional jerk, AND, if I may risk getting brutally murdered for saying so, CURRENT boyfriend of…

[_He's not her boyfriend! A girl can only have one of those at a time and since _I_ am_—]

[_Actually, I _am_ her boyfriend. Get over it._]

Well said, Hyuuga. Because you know, when tigers stake out their territories, that's it for everyone else. Moving on.

Flashy red cap; patent and specialized goalkeeper smirk; chest broad enough to land a plane on; girl-magnet muscles.

**Pose, and… Flash!**

Name: Wakabayashi Genzo

Occupation: Goalie (TOP goalie, because he's the only one Japan needs), rich brat, the guy who constantly gets injured but insists on playing, AND, if I may risk getting brutally murdered, ALSO the CURRENT boyfriend of…

[_Oh no. Oh_ no_, what is _he_ doing here? Who needs another goalie in the picture? And what's this about his chest? Girl-magnet muscles? Pffft. Luckily, _my girlfriend_ is smart enough not to fall for something like tha—_]

[_She thinks he's buff. That's why she's dating him and me both._]

[_For once you're talking sense. I'll be generous enough to overlook the fact that you're hitting on my girl._]

You can see that there are going to be problems.

Fact of life: goalies and strikers will never get along. Ever.

Fact of life: goalies and strikers who are into the same girl generally go beyond the realm of normal, hazard-free and bloodless rivalry into what civilization calls 'mindless violence'. But you can't see them at each other's throats, sorry. I'd have to up the rating if I showed that.

(_But that's the best part!_)

Fine, fine…but later. I have to get in the story before anybody dies.

And here we go…

**A LOVE STORY**

_Scene I_

_Timeslot_: Most people I know who've heard of Captain Tsubasa either read the manga or watched Road to Dream/2002. Now, I know nothing about the manga, but the anime I'm familiar with enough to say that there's a little on Tsubasa's elementary school years, a lot on him in middle school, and the rest is him as a young adult up until the long-awaited World Cup comes along.

Obviously: there are a few gaps in the timeline.

Unfortunately: the story takes place in one of those gaps. More specifically, this happens when Tsubasa's supposed to be in high school—I mean, he would have been, if he hadn't dropped out of school.

_Setting_: Imagine a little corner shop, skirting the edges of a certain region of Japanese suburbs. Large glass panes from ceiling to floor instead of walls, a chiseled wooden door with a couple of bells hanging from it, and a wide brown plaque fixed above the door with the words: Small Miracles Cafe in curvy golden letters. Imagine going inside, where the lighting dims as compared to the sunny outdoors and there are low tables surrounded by squat plush couches in diminutive colors. From the doorway, the first thing you see is a bar-type sort of counter, behind which two girls are hard at work.

* * *

"Do you sometimes think that you've got a split personality, commitment issues, as well as sadistic and suicidal tendencies?"

A teenage girl pauses to think this over. "All of that at the same time? No." Shrugging the question off, she reaches for the next coffee cup and rinses it under running tap water. The place where she does her weekend job is a molecular-scale establishment, which means lattes are fixed, silverware is washed and accounts are kept all within the same thirty square feet. During lulls in business, she can do some washing up, and then turn around to use the cash register to take the next order.

"No? Well, you should," her friend says, leaning against the counter. "Look at the facts. You went steady with Wakashimazu for three years straight without looking two seconds at any other guy. Then you turn around and start dating two people at once. What's more, these two people just happen to be Wakabayashi and Hyuuga, who've already been at each other's throats since the beginning of time. Supplying further needless provocation and conflicts of interest between those two probably qualifies as a threat to national security. Do you not care that the world is potentially ending because you can't choose? Or that you might get caught in the crossfire when the planet explodes?

"And why all this insanity? Because Wakashimazu proposed. Normally, isn't the girl supposed to get pissed when the guy _doesn't_ want to marry her? You, on the other hand, _your_ boyfriend gets on his knees and your first reaction is to dump him. Tell me, when was the last time you did a brain scan?"

The girl snorts and chuckles. "Gee, Mikomi, are you being sarcastic? That's _so_ unlike you."

The friend quirks a half-smirk and continues being her usual acerbic self. "I thought the situation called for drastic measures. It's not every day you lose your mind, Yume."

(_Whoa, wait, wait. Mikomi? Yume? Are those—_)

Yes. May I present my very own Original Characters, the heralded heroines of Road to Dream and Surge?

_Meet_: THE Girl

Straight black hair in a high, long ponytail; large black eyes; smart clothes and sharp-looking shoes; the kind of grin that says, 'I don't give a damn'.

**Pose, and… Flash!**

Name: Kamida Yume

Occupation: High School senior, _then_-cheerleader, _now_-karate-brown-belt and _now_-soccer-player, disproportionally aggressive feminist, EX-girlfriend of Wakashimazu Ken, CURRENT girlfriend of Wakabayashi Genzo and Hyuuga Kojiroh, AND, if I may risk getting brutally murdered for saying this, future fiancée of said Wakashimazu.

[_Go to Hell._]

Hm…that's an option. (You know, this is one of those things that really suck about writing from an omniscient perspective. _You_ know what's going to happen, but no one else does, and as a result your characters get really mad at you for going with the irresistible flow and recording the events which lead up to the inevitable. Yell at me for something that's actually my fault, please?) But right now I have a story to tell, and someone else to introduce.

Short, wavy black hair tied back; black eagle-eyes that exist for the sole purpose of scaring people; clothes that everybody takes one look at and tells her she should go shopping; a sneer that says, 'make me'.

**Pose, and…**

[_I am not posing for your stupid photo sohot._]

Can anyone tell me why this girl doesn't have a lot of friends? All right, no photo shoot. I wasn't going to do a full profile for her, anyway. Those are overdone right now. All you need to know about her is: she's Suzuki Mikomi and wife-to-be of Misaki Taro.

[_Two words: not happening. Never have and never will go near that annoying, indecisive, unassertive…_]

Don't mind her. She is actually unconditionally and irrevocably devoted to him. She just doesn't know it yet. Luckily, Taro is more perceptive regarding his feelings. And patient. And partially insane, according to some of his friends.

By the way, that wasn't two words. More like thirteen and counting. The final number varies with how negative Mikomi feels about Taro that day, ranging from 'very' to 'murderously so', as well as how hurt but supportive he is (she hates that; it gives her mixed feelings), which is normally somewhere between 'I won't hate you for calling me that nasty name' and 'you've made several attempts to kill me, but that's fine, since I'd die for you anyway'.

These two people will end up crazy in love and on the alter.

Trust me.

In the meantime…

There is a light tinkling of bells and Yume aborts her mission to defend her mental status, joining Mikomi in looking towards the chiseled wooden door which glides open to reveal a flashy red cap, a patent and specialized goalkeeper smirk, a chest broad enough to land a plane on, and girl-magnet muscles.

"Yo, Yume." Genzo saunters up to the bar and raises a hand in greeting.

Yume flashes him a smile before turning back to the sink and its dirty contents. "How did that business meeting with your father go?"

"Wasn't anything important." The goalie shrugs lazily. "His business partner had a daughter he wanted me to meet."

Deftly applying soap to a coffee-stained teaspoon, Yume nods. "Did you like her?"

Mikomi pauses in her task of straightening up the silverware cupboard to stare at her colleague, and then frowns thoughtfully at the stack of ceramic plates she's holding.

Genzo, the boyfriend, is courageously unfazed by the cliché trick question. He shakes his head dispassionately. "She didn't look like the kind of girl you could take to a soccer math," he asserts the deciding factor. "Probably doesn't even own sneakers."

To all appearances appropriately pleased, Yume laughs. "Good luck finding a wife in Japan if you're going by standards like that."

Mikomi glances at her again, but this time her expression clears quickly and she returns to squashing delicate-looking cups between two sets of huge silver platters.

Genzo raises a slender, amused brow and opens his mouth to answer, but pauses as a jarring clang of bells is shortly followed by the jerking open of the chiseled wooden door. The imposing silhouette of one Hyuuga Kojiroh is framed momentarily in the doorway.

"I don't think that's going to be a problem," Genzo says suavely, propping one elbow on the bar and leaning towards Yume. "Since I'm marrying _you_."

An outraged scowl roars into life on 'the tiger's' face, and the others speculate that this sort-of, kind-of proposal has upset him.

"_What_ did you just say?" the striker growls from the considerable depths of his throat. Letting the door slam shut behind him, he stomps up to the bar.

The goalie just smirks. "You heard me."

Fact of life: strikers and goalies will never get along. Ever.

Fact of life: strikers and goalies recognize that they are fated to hate each other till the end of eternity, and some of them are smart enough, brave enough, and buff enough to actually risk enjoying it. The others stick around to be provoked.

Hyuuga points a theatric finger at his eternal adversary. "_You_ are not allowed to go anywhere near Yume. You are not allowed to suggest commitment in any form. You can't hold her hand. It should be against the law for you to even look at her!" His dark, toned muscles ripple warningly.

"Who are you to tell me that?" Genzo drawls smoothly.

Before steam can pour from Hyuuga's ears and make the room overly humid, Yume smacks him on one bare shoulder. "You guys are paying for anything you break in here."

The tiger tames at her borderline-violent touch. He smiles at her, and it's the closest thing to an apology he's ever given to anyone besides maybe his mother. "I'm being rude," he concedes.

Genzo rolls his eyes. "When're you _not_?"

Hyuuga ignores him. "Do you want help?" he asks Yume pleasantly, gesturing towards the sink.

The girl fairly beams. Despite lacking Genzo's good looks, social aptitude, wealth and fashion sense, she thinks Hyuuga belongs to a higher caliber of boyfriend. Unspoiled by years of being cooed upon or worshipped by parents, teammates and hordes of fan, he has not yet attended Taking People for Granted lessons.

Fact of life: when almost everyone compulsively runs for their lives when graced with your tiger-gaze, you are generally ingrained with an emphatic awareness of needing to make an effort in building non-fear-based relationships.

"I'm fine. You must be tired of washing dishes, anyway. Sit down somewhere," Yume urges, waving a dripping hand at the few high stools in front of the bar. Once, when she was in elementary school, silly and carefree, she idolized Hyuuga for tirelessly taking on a part-time job at a local street vendor to ease his family's perpetual financial crisis. Now, nearing the end of her high school years, not so silly and definitely not carefree, she thinks that if he had the sense to invest in a non-ragged t-shirt, do something about his hair and learn some manners, he could be making much better use of his time in a job like hers, which had shorter hours and paid better. She has never told him this, though.

"Oi, you don't _really_ have to pamper her, you know," Genzo reminds in a kind-of but not really sneer. "That's a job for the maid we hire when I marry her."

The striker promptly inflates. Spinning around on his stool (he had, of course, been aiming for a 180 degree turn only, but had failed to account for the revolving stool he is sitting on) he awkwardly steadies himself by slamming a palm on the bar's slim tabletop. "She will _not_ be agreeing to any formal contract that remotely _mentions_ your name. She's going to marry Wakashimazu, and—"

Yume inhales sharply.

Hyuuga freezes. "I mean to say, she's going to marry, uh, me," he amends lamely, his usual fire throttling down like a car engine that's been shut off.

Glancing sideways at Mikomi, who has been observing the entire exchange with growing comprehension, Yume shakes her head in defeat and turns off the tap, shaking water droplets off the last freshly-cleaned plate.

Both boys eye Mikomi warily.

"What?" She meets their stare flatly. "Did you think I would gasp in fathomless shock and drop everything because you stated the obvious? Or did you think I would put it past Yume to use you two to make Wakashimazu jealous and acquiesce whatever marriage conditions she's set?"

_(Hey! Then what was all that about 'mindless violence'? They're not even _really_ fighting over her._)

Well, I had to keep you interested, didn't I? And it worked, didn't it? Besides, it was only a half-lie. The boys might not be fighting _over her_, strictly speaking. But they do fight. A lot.

The three conspirators sigh.

Her eventual deduction of the truth had been inevitable, anyway, Yume muses. Mikomi is perceptive, you see. This is something most people agree on (usually after having their best-hidden weaknesses mercilessly exposed by the sympathy-stunted girl). Although, Yume starts to doubt this every time Mikomi refuses to acknowledge Misaki Taro's adoration for her, or covers her eyes to evidence that she feels similarly towards him…

"So." Mikomi closes the cupboard door and leans against the bar. "Can I have your reasons for wanting to accelerate the coming of the apocalypse?" She indicates Hyuuga and Genzo, who are keeping to a strict schedule of periodically exchanging glares.

"Because Wakashimazu's an idiot," Genzo cuts in before Yume can say a word.

Hyuuga reflexively begins to argue, but interrupts himself and gives the goalie's claim some serious thought. "If it were," he said slowly, "any other girl, then I would say _you're_ the idiot. But I suppose, since it's Yume…"

"He wants me to be a _housewife_," the afflicted girl exploded. "He said a bunch of stuff about how the Wakashimazu household was always so proper, and all the women cooked and cleaned and took care of the family."

Mikomi's gaze drifted upward as she considered this. "Well, I can see why doing that might be boring, but the last time I looked, you were kind of in love with him—"

"HE WANTS ME TO GIVE UP SOCCER!"

Suddenly, everybody else in the cafe is two shades paler. Even Hyuuga and Genzo, who have been brutally exposed to this atrocious information before. The mere theoretical concept of abstaining from soccer—_forever_—has scared a couple of hours off their respective lives.

Genzo was first to recover. "I'm not saying his request was stupid, but making it to Yume of all people really makes me wonder whether he hit his head on a goalpost sometime and never told anyone."

For once in his life, Hyuuga agrees with the goalie.

"A word of advice, Yume," Mikomi starts solemnly. "Don't marry him. Just don't. You're one of the leading junior female soccer players around here, bound for the national team. If you let him make you quit, he'll have effectively obliterated a national asset, and you'll be held partially responsible. Saying your vows would equate to violating federal law."

"Besides," Genzo adds, "You _could_ marry me, really."

Hyuuga shoots out a fist which Genzo, wearing an infuriating smirk, easily dodges.

Yume, however, nods approvingly. "I could—or so I'd like to have Ken think."

"And the miracle is that he so obviously does," Mikomi comments dryly.

"Who do you know?" Yume asks curiously.

Mikomi nods at the ceiling-to-floor glass windows at the front of the cafe. The other three look and catch a glimpse of long black hair before the chiseled wooden door slams open to reveal a fuming Wakashimazu Ken. The long, bushy black hair, bulky sweater, tight-fitting pants, and sleek, oh-so-snug keeper gloves are in place, but his trademark quirky half-smirk is strikingly absent.

"_Why_ are you two harassing my girlfriend again?" he demands in a thunderous voice, with a blood-thirsty dagger-filled glare for Genzo and hurt reproach for Hyuuga.

"Your girlfriend?" Genzo asks coolly. "Who might that be? I think Yume made it quite clear that she's had it with you, and if you're talking about Suzuki, I'm sure Misaki would be happy to send you on a trip to one of the lower levels of Hell."

Mikomi glowers. Genzo smirks.

Fact of life: goalies and strikers will never get along. Ever.

Fact of life: rival goalies (supposedly) engaging in do-or-die competition with life-altering stakes don't make the best of friends, either.

Ken's self-delusions refuse to recognize defeat in the face of reality, even when it slaps him in the face (which Yume did, to no effect). "She's _not_ through with me. She's not! She just needs some time to think things through, because getting married is a huge decision—" As he says this, Ken strides up to the bar and attempts to wrap an arm around Yume's shoulders. She ducks at the last possible instant and he falls flat on his side, sprawled across the bar. He hisses as its sharp edges dig into him.

Meanwhile, Yume straightens up and pointedly moves away.

"I should probably stay out of this—"

"Then stay out of it!" Ken snaps angrily.

"—but that just now should really tell you something," Mikomi finished tonelessly.

Having made her escape, Yume slips out from behind the bar and strategically maneuvers herself behind Hyuuga, placing both hands on his shoulders. "Kojiroh-kun says he'd let me play soccer if I married him," she says coldly.

Hyuuga, who doesn't remember ever being called 'Kojiroh-kun' in his life, nods as though he is well-familiarized with her assertion. Noting Ken's chagrin, which is staining his complexion with an interesting collage of reds and pinks, Yume moves on to stand beside Genzo, daringly lacing her hands in front of his chest (to her satisfaction, Ken's own chest nearly bursts its bulky sweater as he swells in indignation). "And Genzo-kun offered to hire me a private coach."

"But—but—" Ken sputters, and they can all see that a crack has finally appeared in his superhumanly invincible wall of self-deception. He repairs it by the simple expedient of ignoring Yume. "_You_." He points venomously at Genzo. "And—uh, Captain," he jerks a hand in Hyuuga's direction with grudging deference. "I demand that we resolve this issue with a—a duel."

There is silence.

It is Mikomi, of course, who approaches her friends' eccentricities with dispassionate pragmatism, that first says, "Don't you think you're a few centuries out of your time?" and then, "_Why?_"

"Because they obviously don't intend to release my girlfriend until they're defeated in some way—"

"I'm here because I want to be," Yume grumbles, not expecting to be listened to.

"—So I'll be waiting at the soccer pitch tonight at nine." Ken does a military-style about-face and starts to storm towards the door when he comes to a halt to Genzo's disinterested drawl. "What exactly will we be doing at this 'duel'?"

Ken blinks. Clearly, he hasn't really thought about the details. "We're…going to play soccer." He attempts bravado. "Isn't it so obvious? Since it's going to be at a soccer pitch and all?"

"And how exactly do you plan on playing soccer?" Hyuuga prompts not unkindly, taking pity on his teammate.

"We're going to have a match," Ken blunders on. "Two against two, and Yume goes to the side that scores more goals in thirty minutes."

Yume sighs. "Damn male possessiveness," she mutters.

Ken turns to leave again.

"There are three of you."

They all look at Mikomi questioningly.

"There're three of you," she repeats, pointing at the two goalies and one striker. "Hyuuga and Wakabayashi being on one team I can understand, but what about you, Wakashimazu?"

Ken reddens as he has, once again, neglected to take into account the pertinent details. His first reaction is to direct his gaze at Yume, who reminds him of her stance in the issue by declining with a disgusted, "Go to Hell." His next choice is Mikomi, who chooses this moment to take his earlier advice and 'stay out of it'.

"Tsubasa's still in Brazil, but…" the karate-goalkeeper racks his brain for prominent strikers in the area. "I hear Misaki's in town."

"Forget it," Yume chirps sweetly. "He won't touch anything Mikomi disapproves of." And addressing Mikomi's scowl, "Well, it's true!"

Upon hitting a wall he can't gloss over, Ken does the sensible thing and opts for being vague. "Don't worry about me," He cries courageously. "You just show up!" And he rushes away before anyone can point out another hole in his arrangement.


End file.
